


Younger

by danceswithgary



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-17
Updated: 2009-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's favorite memories don't exist yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Younger

[  
Click For Fullsize](http://pics.livejournal.com/danceswithgary/pic/0018zrhh)

During his years in the Pegasus galaxy, John has handled elaborate greeting ceremonies, sampled interesting foods, and negotiated complex treaties with varying success. Most of the time, whatever the team had to go through to make new friends had been better than fighting, even when it had occasionally turned out to be slightly painful or embarrassing.

The jury's still out on their latest mission.

John's positive the latest ritual they're supposed to participate in would be a snap, if he'd never seen that picture of Rodney. When Jeannie had offered to show John some photos of when she and her brother were growing up, he should have smiled and declined politely. He'd thought he'd be looking at younger, more hair, and maybe even mildly cute with too-long arms and legs, the typical teenage scowl at the parental camera.

Dark blonde curls not quite brushing Rodney's shoulders had been a given considering the year, but John had never once pictured him with earrings and makeup. Somehow, he'd managed to stuff the memory of blue eyes lined darker and wider, two gold studs, and a wide leather cuff in the back of his mental closet, but he'd never been able to throw it away.

The door just blew wide open and he can't get it closed again.

It should have been easy. The guest robes are soft, thick, and cover them from throat to floor, even Ronon's, which is quite an accomplishment. They conceal everything and, although John can't quite ignore the fact that they're not wearing anything underneath the heavy cloth, that's not the problem.

It's the damn eyeliner.

Teyla and Ronon take it in stride and apply each other's charcoal black makeup without a single complaint. Teyla paints the heavy lines for John, reminding him of more than a few wild nights two decades ago, smiles at the effect, and then turns to Rodney. He backs away, sputtering about potential allergies, infections, and loss of vision until Teyla convinces him that no one else is suffering any ill effects from the simple mixture. With a sigh, Rodney finally closes his eyes and allows Teyla to finish quickly, and then they all walk out for the ceremony that's to be followed by a feast.

The first set of bows and pledges of good will completed, John wishes he'd sat next to Rodney instead of across from, because now he can't politely look away from eyes that are just as blue, just as wide, as those in that damn picture. Worse, he can't help wondering whether he might be able to make out the tiny holes in the curve of Rodney's ear or if he still has those studs, what it all meant to Rodney back then, and if he ever thinks about that time in his life.

The speeches are interminable, the robe warm, and John drifts to a past that wasn't. He wonders whether they could have met all those years ago, at a party, one so loud they would have walked outside to sit. They might have shared a drink and dreams under a constellation they would one day visit. More likely, they would have simply passed each other by, too self-involved in the ambitions and desires that burned under younger skin.

They wouldn't have pressed close together against the chill of the night, touched, or kissed.

The speeches end and John tunes back into now to see Rodney watching him with a puzzled look in those eyes that make John wish for a time machine and a chance. To make things even more complicated, Rodney leans across the table to ask a question John knows he's not ready to answer.

Then John kisses the tip of his thumb, reaches out to wipe away the smudge of black where Rodney rubbed his eye…and realizes he just did.

**Author's Note:**

> Another story inspired by melagan. I was cruising through her LJ and noticed she was waiting for that little smudge of black kohl under Rodney's eye to show up in mcsmooch. I just so happened to have a piece of art I finished recently that needed a story. Bingo.


End file.
